


Great, as in Better

by Leamas



Category: A Perfect Spy - John le Carré
Genre: M/M, Resentment, a study of lederer's strange and terrifying feelings towards pym, this takes place pre-vienna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leamas/pseuds/Leamas
Summary: What's in a name, anyway?
(Or: it is very easy to be jealous of Magnus Pym.)





	

_Magnus_ , meaning _great_.

It was Pym at work, professionally, Magnus off hours, as his friend, and then mentally back to Pym. It was Magnus to Mary, obviously. Magnus to Bee, too, because it was only right; calling him _Pym_ would have been too formal and they were around often enough that it would have sounded wrong to hear from her mouth. Lederer would have had to be blind not to see how close they were. Once he’d asked her about it, while they lay awake in bed, the tip of Bee’s finger running light circles on his chest.

“I’m waiting for him to make a move,” Bee said. “Wouldn't it be fitting?”

“Why would it be fitting?”

“Men like him need their scandal,” she said. “No one’s that perfect.”

He told her everything – not _everything_ , but damn near enough. He told her he was crazy. That he had taken one look at Pym and _recognised_ him for what he really was. No one who made it this far was nice, or a gentleman. Why was Pym’s charm taken at face value while everyone who looked at Lederer saw all the traits that once made him a good lawyer, those same ones got him here in the first place? _We expect terrible things form you_. Being terrible was part of the job; it was how men like them were dragged into this. Yet somehow Pym managed to do the impossible: he’d fooled the right people into thinking they were immune to everything they admired in him. Somehow, in a world where the one common factor was knowing not to trust anyone at face value, Magnus Pym smiled and slipped under everyone’s radar.

“Everyone acts like he’s too good to be true,” he finished, “and it’s because he is. I don’t know what he’s up to, but there’s something there, and it’ll come out one day.”

Bee watched him for a long time. “If Magnus tried anything I’d say no. You know that. Right, Grant? And I’d tell you everything if he did.”

_And that’s why he hasn’t_.

Lederer kissed Bee instead, and fell asleep to a repetition of _Magnus_ whispering to him in Bee’s sweet voice.

The nights Lederer found himself alone with Pym always felt too intimate to call him Magnus. In America, Pym had shown his face sometimes, after hours. He was there on business that had nothing to do with Grant, but the times that Pym took the time to find him didn’t slip past him.

Their conversations lasted hours, and covered everything under the sun: politics, work, family. There was always something to complain about what their higher ups were doing and all the ass kissing that they were expected to do if they wanted anything to get done, and how slowly any progress made. It was quicker to do it himself than put it through all the right channels, Lederer found, and Pym nodded sympathetically in agreement. Lederer talked about Bee and Pym about Mary, and together they speculated about what their wives did while they were alone together. Pym shared stories about Tom, and Lederer returned with his own adventures in parenting.

“Have more,” he told Pym, and Pym said he’d think about it.

“You were the oldest?”

“Yes,” Lederer said – the oldest son, anyway. Pym didn’t need to know anything else.

They talked about everything that didn’t make it out to the sun, too. Lederer found his complaints mixing with hypotheticals – things he’d never do, but that he still thought about. It could be so hard to keep his mouth shut when he was buzzed on a normal day. Could he really expect to keep quiet now that he found himself talking to someone who stood a chance of understanding him?

_What if we didn’t have them to answer to? If it were just us two running this show we’d have finished this ages ago,_ and Pym offered a knowing smile, to Lederer’s embarrassment. It was stupid to pretend Pym wasn’t already at least partially managing how things ran over here, never mind that he was only second to his embassy’s Station Chief. It was more say than Lederer had, and they were on his side of the pond.

_But if it were official – and if it were both of us –_

And Pym, eventually, offered himself up before Lederer by asking, “But wouldn’t it work better if it weren’t official?”

_It was your idea first, Magnus Pym._

“Do you ever think about leaving?” Lederer hurriedly asked.

“Who doesn’t?”

They were getting so ahead of themselves, but neither seemed capable of stopping. It was all a game, a flight of fancy. It didn’t matter what was said here; the way Lederer’s heart raced at the thought didn’t mean anything. _Where would we go if we left? Would we tell our wives? Would we take them with us?_

Pym asked, “What would happen to our kids?”

“Do we give a damn, Magnus?” Lederer finally heard himself ask. As soon as he said it he knew he’d found the line and crossed it.

He watched Pym’s mouth spread into a smile. The rest of his face softened, the same look his kids gave him when they found something they thought they’d lost.

“You don’t,” Pym said.

Lederer bristled. His kids were counting on him, and he loved them and Bee too much to just run. This was just a hypothetical; it wasn’t like he’d given this any serious thought, anyway, not when it came to the real, human practicalities of what escaping with Magnus Pym would entail.

He never told Bee about this conversation.

The investigations into Magnus Pym and his suspicious activity didn’t start long after that. Lederer waited with breath as baited as Pym’s as he waited for the verdict. Was it wrong to want to be right? He’d be hoping that someone with such large access to important documents was a traitor. He wanted his best friend to be sabotaged.

_You don’t want him,_ Lederer wanted to scream. _You don't know who you're dealing with_.

He could change the minds of the people who wanted Pym as easily as he could stop hoping that this wasn’t just a misunderstanding - that something came of it - that Pym made a pass at Bee so he could hear about it.

When the investigation was over Pym walked away clean, with a promotion, to boot: Station Chief in Vienna. Out of sight, out of mind. Lederer tried not to be too bitter about this. It wasn’t over, anyway. He knew which other people still had their suspicions about Pym, and he held his suspicions close to his own chest. The facts didn’t lie; justice would live.

Of course the Pyms and the Lederers went out to celebrate that night. It was to be expected. The kids got left at home and they went out for a nice meal, and some drinks – all on Pym, naturally, because he was the one celebrating.

And then, towards the end of the night he turned to Lederer and wrapped an around his shoulder.

“Have I ever said to you how much I love you?”

They were all in good spirits, if not a bit tipsy – but Pym certainly wasn’t tipsy enough to justify that. Lederer had no idea how to justify his own reaction: his heartbeat jumped up a few notches, and his smile was concrete on his face. But his shoulders relaxed, some long forgotten tension easing out of his body.

_It’s okay_ , Lederer heard, _I know what you are. All is forgiven,_ but he knew Pym as well as he knew himself, and Lederer had never forgiven anything.

Bee was laughing. Mary just looked relieved. Why wouldn’t she be? Her husband was happy. Who wouldn’t be relieved to see that? And who wouldn’t want to know there was a man her husband cared enough to say that to?

“You know, I don’t think you ever told me, actually,” Lederer said. He leaned in closer, draping his own arm around Magnus’ back and bringing their foreheads closer together. _But you’ve told me enough._

“That’s a shame,” Pym said. “I should have told you more often. Vienna won’t be the same without the Lederers there.”

“Just telling me once would have been enough, Magnus,” Lederer said.

In the morning, over breakfast, he said to Bee, “What the hell were his parents thinking, anyway?”

“Whose?” she asked.

“Pym’s,” he said. “Naming him like that. _Magnus_. How important did they think he’d be?”

It was a question he thought about sometimes, although not one he could ask. He could already predict the answer, _I don’t know, Grant Lederer III,_ and just that thought alone annoyed him. Yes, Pym, I’m predictable. Yes, my parents named me as a testament to their legacy – whatever legacy anyone can have in South Bend, Indiana. Yes, Pym, I know, _I know_. You don’t have to tell me what I already know.

Every time Lederer said his name, Bee’s voice would always come back, purring in his ear – _Magnus_ – like he would have been called as a child, like how Mary called him, or like what he imagined Bee would say if anything ever happened between herself and Magnus. She wouldn’t, of course. He knew her well, and trusted her. They shared everything with each other, so if Magnus ever so much as made a pass at her word would get back to him directly from her mouth.

He’d know that, of course. If he ever tried anything, he’d be expecting Lederer to hear about it.

If something did happen between them – if Bee decided her life wasn’t interesting enough without a little scandal of her own or if she decided to make the same choice Lederer would have made if he were offered the chance to choose between himself and Magnus Pym – well, he’d hear about that, too.

He wondered, if anything did happen, if she climbed on top of Pym and let him put his strong hands around her tiny waist and run his thumbs over his hipbones, if she leaned over him and whispered Magnus - because that was what one did, whispering one's secret lover’s name to him like he'd never heard it before - if she did that, would she ever be able to say his name to his face again? Or would it start carrying too many secret meanings to wave around in public?


End file.
